One of the horror genre's "most widely read critics" (Rue Morgue # 68), "an accomplished film journalist" (Comic Buyer's Guide #1535), and the award-winning author of Horror Films of the 1980s (2007), The Rock and Roll Film Encyclopedia (2007) and Horror Films of the 1970s (2002), John Kenneth Muir, presents his blog on film, television and nostalgia, named one of the Top 100 Film Studies Blog on the Net.

Saturday, October 10, 2015

In
“Escape from Dragos,” the energy clone of Commander Canarvin (James Doohan),
returns to Space Command and surreptitiously lowers the base’s defense shields, thereby creating an opportunity for Dragos to attack the facility.

Back
on the Dragon Ship, however, Jason uses Wiki to help Canarvin escape from
custody and make his way to a captured Star Fire.

Canarvin escape custody, but Jason
remains a captive of the evil Dragos…

In
this fifteen minute segment, the overall plot moves incrementally forward, with the
fake Canarvin endangering the Academy, and the real Canarvin on his way to stop
him. Thus we have that old TV trope: the evil commander. Should he be questioned? Trusted? Obeyed? Removed from authority?

Those are the questions that trusting, loyal subordinates must now ask.

Beyond the Canarvin situation, not
much happens in terms of character in this story, except that Nicole (Susan
Pratt) reveals here proficiency in kung-fu.
Parsafoot (Charlie Dell), by contrast, has an embarrassing display of
his physical skills. Though meant to be
comic relief, Parsafoot’s behavior is actually cringe-inducing.

It’s
always a shame when a show that seeks not to talk down to kids ends up
pandering to “childish” characterization, and that’s what happens in “Escape
from Dragos.” We don't need comic relief from Parsafoot in this story. We need good, exciting storytelling instead.

Otherwise,
here are some more broad observations about the series, this week. We see that the corridors of Drago’s vessel
are all made of rock, rather than the advanced-looking materials of Space Command. This fact suggests that the corridors were carved
out of asteroid rock but the task of making the corridors attractive and
livable was left untended. Those things likely don't matter to Dragos. His crew consists of mindless minions, so why bother with the decor, right?

Also, as is the case
with Space
Academy (1977), the special effects on this series hold up nicely. This mini-episode
features a scene in which Canarvin’s Star Fire is freed from the Dragon Ship’s
bay. We see the doors open, and the ship drop out and accelerate away. Very, very impressive work.

Our third episode of this 1977 Saturday
morning series,Space
Academyfinds Blue
Team racing to meet a crisis.

Commander Gampu (Jonathan Harris), Loki
(Eric Greene), Paul (Ty Henderson), and Peepo are on board a Seeker in Sector 5
looking out for passing meteors. But Loki is too busy playing with his
"liratron" to notice when a big asteroid flashes by his screen.

The meteor approaches the Space Academy planetoid, sending Chris and Tee Gar
into a panic, and the Seeker is left with only 2 minutes and 10 seconds to
catch up with and destroy the offending space debris.

A lucky shot from a "spinner" (Space
Academy'sequivalent of
a photon torpedo) destroys the space rock locked on collision course, but the
explosion spreads meteor dust everywhere.

When the Seeker returns to the Academy,
the hanger bay doors refuse to open. Gampu has Peepo open the doors with the
right "auto-lock" frequency, and the ship lands safely, but the
Seeker crew soon discovers that all the cadets and crew have vanished! Worse,
the Seeker crew begins vanishing one at a time, too, starting with Gampu.

Peepo determines that the answer to this riddle involves the meteor dust, and
has Loki collect samples from the Seeker's hull. Then, Peepo releases
"positive ions" from the dust and everybody re-appears safely.

I’m not entirely satisfied that “Hide and
Seek” makes much sense. In this story, meteor test seems to infiltrate the
interior of the Space Academy, but in all likelihood there would be shielding
to prevent such an occurrence, right?
How else keep out radiation, or any other harmful substance?

Similarly, the idea -- if I understand it
correctly -- is that the crew isn’t gone or missing, just, actually,
invisible.

Why then wouldn’t some smart
crew-men (Chris Gentry, or even Commander Gampu, for instance), attempt to
contact Laura and Peepo using some sort of non-visual communication earlier,
using the command console (which spells out the word METEOR). My point, I guess
is that contact should have been attempted sooner. And if all those people are still there,
doing their duties, why aren’t the visible crew people running to them?

And if the crew did actually disappear,
where did they go? And what, precisely, is in that magical meteor dust to allow
transportation to another dimension?

These questions of logic and narrative
make “Hide and Seek” a not entirely satisfactory episode. However, once again,
the series is saved by its visual presentation; by its special effects. In this case, we get to see cadets (and
Gampu) actually leave the docking bay, right next to a life-size Seeker. The life-sized seeker is, in fact, a
redressed Ark II (1976), but having it there for reference, next to the actors,
creates a tremendous sense of verisimilitude.

There are also some good shots of the
Academy control center, in normal mode and frozen-over, in this episode.

Friday, October 09, 2015

If
you just gaze at the new found-footage horror movie The Gallows (2015) on a
surface level, you’ll encounter several unlikable, superficial teen characters,
and a repeat of many found footage tropes, including the night-vision scene,
and the visual distortion that typically accompanies the appearance of a
supernatural specter.

If
you look beyond that surface, however, you may find that The Gallows is an
enjoyable and straight-up presentation of a different set of tropes; those belonging to 1980s slasher or “dead
teenager” films.

From
start to finish, this horror film from directors Travis Cluff and Chris Lofing
is actually a straight-up tribute to what horror was, in the years circa 1978 –
1983. That was the reign of Halloween
(1978), Friday the 13th (1980) My Bloody Valentine
(1981) and other classics of the sub-genre.

With
a wink and a nod, The Gallows resurrects once-popular slasher characters,
situation, and settings, and this fact alone differentiates it from many other modern
examples of the found footage trend. Now,
The
Gallows received a slew of bad reviews, but was a hit at the box office
(grossing over 38 million against a budget of 100,000 dollars), yet I suspect those
negative reviews come largely from writers who don’t love horror, or don’t have
any real understanding of its many formats.

In
short, if you like the slasher film paradigm, and enjoy seeing its (welcome) old tropes
revived for the 21st century, it’s a good bet you’ll like and enjoy The
Gallows.

In
October of 1993, the students of Beatrice High School in Nebraska put on a
production of "The Gallows." Unfortunately, during the play, on the night of October 29, something
goes terribly wrong and actor Charlie Grimille (Jesse Cross) is actually hanged
on stage. His death becomes a media sensation.

Twenty
years later, in October of 2013, a young student at Beatrice (Pfeiffer Brown)
has spearheaded a revival of "The Gallows" for her drama class. She plays the lead role, and cast as her romantic opposite is football
jock, Reese (Reese Mishler).

Reese’s
friends, especially the sarcastic Ryan (Ryan Shoos) mock him endlessly about the drama club,
the play, and his inability to remember his lines. On the night before the big show, Ryan suggests to Reese that if the
show goes on, he’ll never live it down.
He suggests that they sneak into the school auditorium by night and
destroy the play’s setting so that "The Gallows" will be canceled. Reese agrees, and cheerleader Cassidy (Cassidy
Spiker) signs on to join the fun.

That
night, the trio sneaks into the school through an unlocked door and begins to destroy the
sets for the play. When Pfieffer shows up, however, Reese is ashamed of his
behavior, and lies to her about it. She discovers the truth about his
intentions, but they all have more important problems to address when they find
the exit door locked.

In
fact, every door leading out of the school is locked, landlines are dead, and
cell-phones have no service. Worse, a
strange specter -- an executioner or hangman with a noose -- is hunting the foursome.

In
my book, Horror Films of the 1980s (McFarland; 2007), I outline the
Slasher Paradigm. That outline commences with a look at “the organizing principle” of slasher movies; the one idea or
“world” that creates an umbrella of unity for all the other factors. Think Halloween night in John Carpenter's Halloween, or the summer camp in Friday the 13th. In the
case of The Gallows, the organizing principle is the stage play,
performed at Beatrice High School, The
Gallows, which involves a love affair that survives death, a hanging, and a
masked executioner.

Virtually
every good slasher film commences with another convention: the deadly preamble or
the tragedy/crime in the past. In Friday
the 13th, for instance, someone murders two camp counselors
at Camp Crystal Lake in 1958. In Halloween,
little Michael Myers kills his older sister, Judith, on Halloween night in
1963. In both cases, the action then jumps forward to an anniversary of sorts
(in 1980, and 1978, respectively). The
Gallows conforms to this trope too. The film opens with home video footage of
the school play in 1993, when something goes terribly wrong, and Charlie dies
horribly in that noose, his neck snapped. The remainder of the film takes place in the lead-up to the 20th
anniversary of that deadly preamble, or tragedy in the past. We get the idea that the ‘evil’ past has been
resurrected in the present, for a whole new generation.The
character in The Gallows are all archetypes from the slasher paradigm as
well. They are from our old 1980s
friend, the teenage “victim pool.” Our obnoxious camera-man, Ryan, is the
practical joker of old, an asshole who enjoys mocking and teasing others, until
he meets his grim demise. The Gallows devotes much time and
energy to Ryan’s sarcastic, mean-spirited musings about the drama club, and his
nasty behavior towards a stage manager. Ryan engages in more than one practical
joke (involving the stage manager’s wardrobe and locker, and another one
involving a football).

Secondly,
we encounter the cheerleader, Cassidy in this case.
She’s the shallow, mean-spirited screamer who, like the practical joker,
is certain to die. Like the practical joker, the audience doesn’t invest much
in the cheerleader character because we know that this “popular” (but not terribly
bright…) character is doomed.

Then,
we get our villain, the spectral executioner or hangman.
In slasher movies, the killer is always someone dressed differently from
the victim pool, a fact which marks him as an “other,” someone outside
mainstream society. Often, the killers also associated with masks (Jason and
his hockey mask; the Shape and the Shatner mask) and particular weapons
(Freddy’s glove, Jason’s machete, etc.).
The killer in The Gallowswears both a hood/mask, and is identifiable by
the weapon he usually carries when he becomes visible: a rope and noose. The mportance of the mask? It cloaks identity.

The
Gallows provides a brief red herring too, in the person of a janitor who may be
working late at the school, and offers a mysterious Cassandra-type character, a
woman at the Beatrice High dress rehearsal who also claims to have been present
during the 1993 tragedy. She may know what's going on, and who, in particular, is doomed.

And
what about the final girl?The Gallows presents Pfeiffer, the drama queen as the
final girl -- a smarter, more insightful brand of youngster -- but plays some Happy
Birthday to Me (1980)-styled tricks regarding her history and
background.

Other
elements from the Slasher Paradigm are also imported intact to this found footage film. For example,
almost every slasher film of the 1980s included a scene I call the “Tour of the
Dead,” wherein living characters, during the final chase, encounter the
“staged” corpses of their dead friends.
This happens in The Gallows, up in the stage rafters, before the
denouement. And finally, of course,
there is the “sting in the tail/tale,” the final shock that ends a slasher
movie on a scary note. The Gallows provides one
of those too, this one involving investigating policemen and a creepy and legitimately surprising revelation about the
executioner’s…family.

I
admire The Gallows dedicated attempt to revive the Slasher Paradigm,
and adapt it to the structure and formula of found footage. One good scene here involves a character
recording his own death, and the other characters “replaying” it on his device.
This satisfies one of my core concerns of found footage films: nobody ever
seems to review all the captured footage…footage which would reveal the
presence of something sinister and supernatural. That’s not the case, here.

I also got a kick out of the opening scene, wherein parents record the ill-fated 1993 play, blissfully unaware that all their commentary (not always flattering...) is being taped for posterity.

What’s
the downside of adopting the Slasher Paradigm? Well, characters in these films are literally off-the-shelf. They are
broad types, like “practical joker,” “cheerleader,” “jock,” “nerd” and so on. There isn't much more depth than that. Most films of the slasher variety don’t take
characterization much past that generic point, and neither, really, does The
Gallows. So while the movie nicely apes
slasher format, one can’t claim that it features deep or interesting
characters. In fact, Ryan is despicable, and you may be thirsting for his demise. This is not an unfamiliar feeling for fans of the Friday the 13th mythos.

On
the other hand, the final series of revelations tie everything together nicely
(and shockingly), and one comes to further understand how the “crime” or
“tragedy in the past” has destroyed people in the present. The transgression
that destroyed Charlie lives on, and has taken over the next generation in the
film. Wes Craven, the late, great horror director often discussed the Freudian
aspects of horror films and he could have been talking about this film. He discussed
the way that things which are repressed or buried turn up in the present as
pathological symptoms. The Gallows follows that pattern. Family dysfunction, it seems, passes from one
generation to the next.

The
real question about The Gallows, I suppose, is this: is it a shallow horror movie
with characters you don’t care about, or a revival of slasher tropes that
intentionally exploits the fact that the characters (particularly Ryan) are
unlikable?

I would give The
Gallows the benefit of the doubt, in part because that's just how I roll. The film utilizes so many elements of the
Slasher Paradigm that their appearance can’t be mere coincidence. What The
Gallows lacks in dimensional characterization and leavening humor, it
makes up for, I would argue, in dedicated and dramatic homage.

If
you just gaze at the new found-footage horror movie The Gallows (2015) on a
surface level, you’ll encounter several unlikable, superficial teen characters,
and a repeat of many found footage tropes, including the night-vision scene,
and the visual distortion that typically accompanies the appearance of a
supernatural specter.

If
you look beyond that surface, however, you may find that The Gallows is an
enjoyable and straight-up presentation of a different set of tropes; those belonging to 1980s slasher or “dead
teenager” films.

From
start to finish, this horror film from directors Travis Cluff and Chris Lofing
is actually a straight-up tribute to what horror was, in the years circa 1978 –
1983. That was the reign of Halloween
(1978), Friday the 13th (1980) My Bloody Valentine
(1981) and other classics of the sub-genre.

With
a wink and a nod, The Gallows resurrects once-popular slasher characters,
situation, and settings, and this fact alone differentiates it from many other modern
examples of the found footage trend. Now,
The
Gallows received a slew of bad reviews, but was a hit at the box office
(grossing over 38 million against a budget of 100,000 dollars), yet I suspect those
negative reviews come largely from writers who don’t love horror, or don’t have
any real understanding of its many formats.

In
short, if you like the slasher film paradigm, and enjoy seeing its (welcome) old tropes
revived for the 21st century, it’s a good bet you’ll like and enjoy The
Gallows.

In
October of 1993, the students of Beatrice High School in Nebraska put on a
production of "The Gallows." Unfortunately, during the play, on the night of October 29, something
goes terribly wrong and actor Charlie Grimille (Jesse Cross) is actually hanged
on stage. His death becomes a media sensation.

Twenty
years later, in October of 2013, a young student at Beatrice (Pfeiffer Brown)
has spearheaded a revival of "The Gallows" for her drama class. She plays the lead role, and cast as her romantic opposite is football
jock, Reese (Reese Mishler).

Reese’s
friends, especially the sarcastic Ryan (Ryan Shoos) mock him endlessly about the drama club,
the play, and his inability to remember his lines. On the night before the big show, Ryan suggests to Reese that if the
show goes on, he’ll never live it down.
He suggests that they sneak into the school auditorium by night and
destroy the play’s setting so that "The Gallows" will be canceled. Reese agrees, and cheerleader Cassidy (Cassidy
Spiker) signs on to join the fun.

That
night, the trio sneaks into the school through an unlocked door and begins to destroy the
sets for the play. When Pfieffer shows up, however, Reese is ashamed of his
behavior, and lies to her about it. She discovers the truth about his
intentions, but they all have more important problems to address when they find
the exit door locked.

In
fact, every door leading out of the school is locked, landlines are dead, and
cell-phones have no service. Worse, a
strange specter -- an executioner or hangman with a noose -- is hunting the foursome.

In
my book, Horror Films of the 1980s (McFarland; 2007), I outline the
Slasher Paradigm. That outline commences with a look at “the organizing principle” of slasher movies; the one idea or
“world” that creates an umbrella of unity for all the other factors. Think Halloween night in John Carpenter's Halloween, or the summer camp in Friday the 13th. In the
case of The Gallows, the organizing principle is the stage play,
performed at Beatrice High School, The
Gallows, which involves a love affair that survives death, a hanging, and a
masked executioner.

Virtually
every good slasher film commences with another convention: the deadly preamble or
the tragedy/crime in the past. In Friday
the 13th, for instance, someone murders two camp counselors
at Camp Crystal Lake in 1958. In Halloween,
little Michael Myers kills his older sister, Judith, on Halloween night in
1963. In both cases, the action then jumps forward to an anniversary of sorts
(in 1980, and 1978, respectively). The
Gallows conforms to this trope too. The film opens with home video footage of
the school play in 1993, when something goes terribly wrong, and Charlie dies
horribly in that noose, his neck snapped. The remainder of the film takes place in the lead-up to the 20th
anniversary of that deadly preamble, or tragedy in the past. We get the idea that the ‘evil’ past has been
resurrected in the present, for a whole new generation.The
character in The Gallows are all archetypes from the slasher paradigm as
well. They are from our old 1980s
friend, the teenage “victim pool.” Our obnoxious camera-man, Ryan, is the
practical joker of old, an asshole who enjoys mocking and teasing others, until
he meets his grim demise. The Gallows devotes much time and
energy to Ryan’s sarcastic, mean-spirited musings about the drama club, and his
nasty behavior towards a stage manager. Ryan engages in more than one practical
joke (involving the stage manager’s wardrobe and locker, and another one
involving a football).

Secondly,
we encounter the cheerleader, Cassidy in this case.
She’s the shallow, mean-spirited screamer who, like the practical joker,
is certain to die. Like the practical joker, the audience doesn’t invest much
in the cheerleader character because we know that this “popular” (but not terribly
bright…) character is doomed.

Then,
we get our villain, the spectral executioner or hangman.
In slasher movies, the killer is always someone dressed differently from
the victim pool, a fact which marks him as an “other,” someone outside
mainstream society. Often, the killers also associated with masks (Jason and
his hockey mask; the Shape and the Shatner mask) and particular weapons
(Freddy’s glove, Jason’s machete, etc.).
The killer in The Gallowswears both a hood/mask, and is identifiable by
the weapon he usually carries when he becomes visible: a rope and noose. The mportance of the mask? It cloaks identity.

The
Gallows provides a brief red herring too, in the person of a janitor who may be
working late at the school, and offers a mysterious Cassandra-type character, a
woman at the Beatrice High dress rehearsal who also claims to have been present
during the 1993 tragedy. She may know what's going on, and who, in particular, is doomed.

And
what about the final girl?The Gallows presents Pfeiffer, the drama queen as the
final girl -- a smarter, more insightful brand of youngster -- but plays some Happy
Birthday to Me (1980)-styled tricks regarding her history and
background.

Other
elements from the Slasher Paradigm are also imported intact to this found footage film. For example,
almost every slasher film of the 1980s included a scene I call the “Tour of the
Dead,” wherein living characters, during the final chase, encounter the
“staged” corpses of their dead friends.
This happens in The Gallows, up in the stage rafters, before the
denouement. And finally, of course,
there is the “sting in the tail/tale,” the final shock that ends a slasher
movie on a scary note. The Gallows provides one
of those too, this one involving investigating policemen and a creepy and legitimately surprising revelation about the
executioner’s…family.

I
admire The Gallows dedicated attempt to revive the Slasher Paradigm,
and adapt it to the structure and formula of found footage. One good scene here involves a character
recording his own death, and the other characters “replaying” it on his device.
This satisfies one of my core concerns of found footage films: nobody ever
seems to review all the captured footage…footage which would reveal the
presence of something sinister and supernatural. That’s not the case, here.

I also got a kick out of the opening scene, wherein parents record the ill-fated 1993 play, blissfully unaware that all their commentary (not always flattering...) is being taped for posterity.

What’s
the downside of adopting the Slasher Paradigm? Well, characters in these films are literally off-the-shelf. They are
broad types, like “practical joker,” “cheerleader,” “jock,” “nerd” and so on. There isn't much more depth than that. Most films of the slasher variety don’t take
characterization much past that generic point, and neither, really, does The
Gallows. So while the movie nicely apes
slasher format, one can’t claim that it features deep or interesting
characters. In fact, Ryan is despicable, and you may be thirsting for his demise. This is not an unfamiliar feeling for fans of the Friday the 13th mythos.

On
the other hand, the final series of revelations tie everything together nicely
(and shockingly), and one comes to further understand how the “crime” or
“tragedy in the past” has destroyed people in the present. The transgression
that destroyed Charlie lives on, and has taken over the next generation in the
film. Wes Craven, the late, great horror director often discussed the Freudian
aspects of horror films and he could have been talking about this film. He discussed
the way that things which are repressed or buried turn up in the present as
pathological symptoms. The Gallows follows that pattern. Family dysfunction, it seems, passes from one
generation to the next.

The
real question about The Gallows, I suppose, is this: is it a shallow horror movie
with characters you don’t care about, or a revival of slasher tropes that
intentionally exploits the fact that the characters (particularly Ryan) are
unlikable?

I would give The
Gallows the benefit of the doubt, in part because that's just how I roll. The film utilizes so many elements of the
Slasher Paradigm that their appearance can’t be mere coincidence. What The
Gallows lacks in dimensional characterization and leavening humor, it
makes up for, I would argue, in dedicated and dramatic homage.

Thursday, October 08, 2015

Last
Action Hero --
directed by John McTiernan and starring Arnold Schwarzenegger -- was supposed
to be the “big ticket” movie of the summer of 1993, but fate had other plans.

That
title eventually went to Steven Spielberg’s Jurassic Park (1993)
instead, and today Last Action Hero is widely remembered as a misfire; a bomb. The
film grossed little more than fifty million dollars at the American box office,
and earned many negative reviews. I saw the film in the theater in 1993
(long-time Arnie fan, here…) and felt it was disappointing, if not downright
awful.

But
the purpose of this blog is (at least sometimes…) to re-examine those works of
art that have been dismissed, overlooked, or forgotten.

So
I wondered: is Last Action Hero worth a second look in 2015? Has it aged well?

Or,
conversely, have I changed as a viewer since 1993, and come to better see what
the film was attempting to achieve?

First,
let’s focus on the negative aspects of the film and get that out of the way.

More
than twenty years later, one can detect the reasons why Last Action Hero so often
fails. At two-hours and eleven minutes
in duration, it is simply too long for a film featuring, essentially, a lark as
a premise: a real life boy ending up the
sidekick of a movie world action hero.

There’s
just too much baggage -- to much detritus -- weighing down those light bones.

This
movie should be -- like Who Framed Roger Rabbit? (1988) -- no
more than 105 minutes in running time.

Why?

Any
longer than that, and one is bound to start asking questions about the
inconsistencies in the premise, and the universe the film creates.

Any
longer than that, and the jokes start to repeat, and the performances begin to
flat-line from the repetition. Watching
the film becomes a tiresome process by the third act because Last
Action Hero doesn’t always seem to know where it is headed.

Secondly,
the pace and tone of these two hours and eleven minutes might best be described
as leaden. There are plenty of action sequences, certainly, but the plot moves
at a snail’s place, and never settles on a consistent tone.

To
wit: sometimes the film is a weird and wacky catch-all or satire; an Airplane
(1980) type film. But then there are also those moments when viewers
are supposed to feel invested in the details of the story, and in following the
plot logically from point A to point B. The two approaches collide and the result
is an unsatisfying mishmash. If we are
constantly being told that events don’t matter, or that this is all “just a
movie,” it becomes ever-more difficult to invest in the plot details.

These
facts established, Last Action Hero possesses many good ideas, and even a
compelling thematic through-line that I hope to enumerate. That through-line
ties into the jokes about Shakespeare’s Hamlet
and a movie version of the play starring Schwarzenegger (perhaps the best scene
in the film…). It also ties into the
characters of Danny Madigan (Austin O’Brien) and Jack Slater. All three heroes contend with the same “to be
or not to be” existential dilemma.

In
short, Last Action Hero is actually about Danny learning what it means
to really live life, and to be the hero of his own lie. First, he learns that lesson in a world with
the training wheels on (the movie world) and then he learns it in the real world, where Jack Slater --
his role model and surrogate father -- must learn it beside him.

And
what does Danny learn in the real world?
That unlike the movie world, real world virtues include not expert
gunplay, but compassion, loyalty, and love.

It
is rewarding and admirable that Last Action Hero tells this story,
but after twenty years, it is obvious that the film doesn’t tell it with
anything approaching consistency or coherence.

So
what audiences end up with is a sweet, likable film that, despite those
qualities, is also often dull and tiresome.

It
makes me sad too. I want to like this
movie more than I do.

“Here,
in this world, the bad guys can win.”

Young
Danny Madigan (O’Brien) avoids his real life problems (including an apartment
in a bad neighborhood and the death of his father) by cutting school and
hanging out at the movies with a kindly old projectionist, Nick (Robert
Prosky).

His
favorite movies are those involving a larger-than-life action hero named Jack
Slater (Schwarzenegger) and his exploits as an L.A. cop.

With
Slater IV due in theaters, Nick
invites Danny to an advance screening of the sequel late one night. He also
gives Danny a golden ticket given to him years earlier by Harry Houdini.

As
Danny discovers, that ticket possesses magic powers, and can open a bridge
between the movie universe and the real universe. Danny is swept across this bridge, and meets
his hero, Jack Slater, in a movie-version of Los Angeles.

In
the movie world, Jack is tangling with an evil hitman named Benedict (Charles
Dance) and his mob boss, Tony Vivaldi (Anthony Quinn). Danny helps Slater defeat
the bad guys, and also reckon with the fact that he is actually living inside a
movie.

Later
Benedict gets ahold of the magic ticket stub, and moves into the real world.
There, the villain realizes that bad guys can win, and with the help of the
villain of Slater III, The Ripper (Tom Noonan), decides to set off on a
reign of terror at the world premiere of Slater IV, where star Arnold
Schwarzenegger is schedule to appear…

Now Danny and Jack must stop Benedict and the
Ripper, and Jack must come face-to-face with his celebrity alter-ego.

“You
can’t die until the grosses go down.”

There’s
an amusing moment of allusion in Last Action Hero involving Charles
Dance’s character, Benedict. This
assassin has stolen the magical golden ticket, and discovered that it opens the
doorway to another dimension; to the real world.

As
Benedict’s hand lightly brushes the portal to that universe, a TV on in the
background plays the opening narration and theme to Rod Serling’s The
Twilight Zone (1959-1964). This detail is an intriguing point of
connection between productions. Like
those visiting The Twilight Zone, Benedict can now travel to another
dimension.

Yet,
by the same token, The Twilight Zone signifies something else significant: economy of storytelling.

Each
episode of the series (except for those airing in the fourth season) are just a
half-hour in length. They vet their wild
tales, offer a few surprises, and then finish with astonishing rapidity and
grace…often before too many questions can be asked.

Last
Action Hero
alludes to The Twilight Zone in this scene, but takes a faulty creative approach
by comparison. The film is too long, too
big, and too byzantine, and it lingers on details of a whimsical story that,
simply don’t stand up to scrutiny.

For
instance, if Jack (and all movie heroes) are bullet-proof in the movie world,
essentially, then from what source should the movie’s tension arise? If bad guys literally can’t win in the movie
world (as Benedict verbally indicates) then why and how are we supposed to feel
anxiety when Jack or Danny is imperiled by them?

This
criticism is not meant to indicate that the movie doesn’t have fun with this
idea of the movie universe, at least at points.
“You know, tar actually sticks to
some people,” Danny tells Slater after he falls into tar pits,
unscathed. His status as indestructible
is appropriately funny, but it also eliminates some aspects of immediacy from
the story.

Somewhere
inLast
Action Hero, a really good
movie is buried, and it attempts to surface several times.

For
instance, the movie uses Hamlet as a kind of base-line for
action heroes and action hero behavior.
A high school teacher describes Denmark’s prince as the first such action hero, actually. Yet Hamlet is paralyzed and defined by his
inability to act, to do something; to defeat his enemies.

Humorously,
the McTiernan film proposes an alternative to this hesitating, melancholy
prince: a cinematic adaptation of Shakespeare’s tragedy starring Arnold
Schwarzenegger. Chomping a cigar and blowing enemies away with automatic
weapons, this Hamlet has no problems acting with terminal force, or intensity. There is nothing diffident about him at all.

The
“Trailer” for the Schwarzenegger Hamlet is uproariously funny, and
strikes the exact right note of absurdity. But more to the point, it is used,
thematically, to let us know that Danny is -- like Hamlet -- unable to act
forcefully, which is the very reason he looks up to substitute father-figure
Jack Slater.

When
a burglar breaks into Danny’s apartment, he gives Danny every opportunity to
take his weapon, a knife, and fight him.
But Danny -- like Hamlet -- does nothing. He can’t will himself to act.
And while watching Hamlet on TV in school, Danny becomes invested in the action
(or lack of action). He urges Olivier’s Hamlet to “stop talking” and “do
something.” Clearly, this is something personal for Danny. Although he aspires to be a Jack Slater, we
learn that he sees himself as a Hamlet.
He is paralyzed over his father’s death (a death he shares in common
with the prince from Denmark), and does not yet know how to act, or how to
survive in this dangerous “real” world.

Danny
then travels into the movie world, where Slater -- an action hero -- acts without
thinking, without hesitation, and without deadly consequence. Slater can’t
lose, and apparently can’t feel fear, so he always wins the day. But the universe itself is stacked in his
favor. Danny takes baby steps towards growth and survival in this universe, attempting
a game of chicken against a speeding car, and learning to operate a dangerous
crane. In other words, he begins “acting”
the role of hero. He emulates Jack, but does so in a safe environment; one
where the good guys always win and he is no physical danger.

Then,
in the movie’s final act, Danny and Slater pursue Benedict to the real world, a
place with absolutely real danger, and where the bad guys can win. In this
world, Slater is the child, playing by a set of rules he doesn’t understand,
and therefore Danny learns the necessity of pro-active behaviors or action. He must save his friend, who is badly wounded
after a confrontation with Benedict. When Slater is shot, Danny realizes that
the qualities he always had inside -- compassion,
loyalty, and love -- are the very things that impel him to act decisively;
to be a hero. He overcomes his Hamlet dilemma and becomes the hero of his own
life.

All
of this material fits together in Last Action Hero, and Slater even
comments at one point that “the world is
what you make of it, Danny.” This is
simply another way of expressing the idea that we can re-shape the world in a
way to our liking if only we act, and act intelligently. That’s the film’s dedicated leitmotif, and Last
Action Hero is sweet because it is about a boy who thinks he needs a
father figure but then -- through his interactions with that “idol” -- realizes
that he can be the person he wants to be, and needs to be, all under his own
steam.

Without
being disrespectful, I would assert merely that Last Action Hero could
tell this story -- and make this point -- more efficiently, and with greater
discipline. The celebrity cameos are fun, the knocks-against movies are funny,
and the explorations of tropes (like the wrong-headed, screaming police
superior) are on target, but in some sense they are all but noise that
ultimately takes away from the through-line I mentioned above.

I’m
a huge admirer of McTiernan’s work in film, and his serious, grounded, approach
to action but he doesn’t boast a very good “light” or “whimsical” touch
on this project. This feels like a film tailor made for Steven Spielberg or Robert
Zemeckis, and I feel that McTiernan expends too much time and energy on the
bells and whistles -- the fights, the chases, and the pyrotechnics -- when what
he really needs to focus on, front and center, is the shifting relationship
between Danny and Slater, and the way the Hamlet story illuminates Danny’s
story.

Tar
doesn’t stick to Arnold Schwarzenegger, and he was back in 1994 in the
triumphant True Lies, but one can see why he was drawn to this script and
this project. Somewhere, deep down, Last Action Hero is all about the
way young children build-up “heroes” of the silver screen, but fail to take
into account the fact that they thrive in a world unlike our own; one of
different rules.

Schwarzenegger
is terrific as Slater, a man who starts to realize that all his success may not
be due to his own skills, but the nature of reality itself. There’s a great
scene here in which Slater questions his life, and he reasons that it has
gotten so weird lately. Danny
sympathizes and tells him it’s a matter of the rules. “These
are the sequels. They gotta get hard…”

The
fickle Gods of film, right?

They
give, and they take away. Even Slater’s boy was taken away from him so that he
could have a “tragic past” to overcome.

Watching
Last
Action Hero again twenty-one years later, I knew what to expect, and so
didn’t feel the same disappointment that I did in 1993.

But,
oppositely, I feel that this film has so much of value to say, but is lazy and
disjointed in the expression of its valid and intriguing messages. Last Action Hero demanded a light
touch -- a director who would fly like a butterfly and sting like a bee -- but instead
the film is played with the seriousness of a project like Predator (1987), Die
Hard (1988) or Hunt for Red October (1988).

The
result? “No sequel” for action hero
Slater.

And
honestly, that makes me a bit sad. The
character is great, and deserved a better vehicle for his movie debut. At the very least, Last Action Hero’s heart
is in the right spot.

Wednesday, October 07, 2015

"I
shall never permit anything bearing my signature to be banalized and vulgarized
into the flat infantile twaddle which passes for 'horror tales' amongst radio
and cinema audiences!"

~ H.P. Lovecraft, in a 1933 letter to poet Richard Morse.

Had Lovecraft been persuaded to
permit a movie adaptation of his signature tale, "The Call of
Cthulhu," it would've resembled Andrew Leman's 2005 version, distributed
by the H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society.

Since the 1960s, studios have
attempted bringing Lovecraft's "unfilmable" stories to the screen
with mixed results. Most versions are more "inspired by," updating to
the present day and tacking on extraneous elements like love interests.

The Call of Cthulhu took a
unique approach: made in the style of a black & white silent movie, just as
it would've looked when the story was first published in 1928. The result is
not only a most faithful adaptation, but a homage to the fantasy films of the
early 20th century: a successful pastiche of Georges Melies (A
Trip to the Moon), Fritz Lang (Metropolis), Robert Wiene (The
Cabinet of Dr. Caligari), and Willis O'Brien (The Lost World). It can
be seen as a forgotten relic of the past, rediscovered and revealed to the
modern world. Or an artifact from an alternate world that found its way to
ours.

Notions worthy of Lovecraft
himself.

As a man (Matt Foyer) adds the
final pieces to a jigsaw puzzle of Van Gough's "The Starry Night," he
tells his listener (John Bolen) of the box he found while settling the affairs
of his Great-Uncle, Professor Angell (Ralph Lucas). It contained files
pertaining to a "Cthulhu Cult" and accounts of incidents that
coincided with an earthquake on March 1st, 1925. Three accounts particularly
stand out, each involving sculptures depicting a winged, tentacled monstrosity.

"The Horror in the Clay:"
An artist's (Chad Fifer) work is fueled by nightmares of an ancient city where
he is stalked by a massive, shadowy creature.

"Narrative of Inspector
Legrasee:" A New Orleans detective (David Mersault) raids a swamp cult
responsible for local disappearances. The cultists worship Cthulhu, part of a
race of beings that existed long before man. They claim that when the stars
align, Cthulhu and the Old Ones will awaken from their aeons-old slumber and
reclaim the Earth.

"The Madness from the Sea:"
A sailor (Patrick O'Day), his captain (Noah Wagner), and his shipmates discover
an abandoned vessel at sea. Following the coordinates from the last log entry,
they arrive at an island where they explore R'yleh, the cyclopean city of the
artist's nightmares - and come face to face with mighty Cthulhu itself.

In the end, The Man begs that
the files be burned, as his location and the identity of his listener are
revealed.

Modern audiences will find plenty to dislike about this movie: no color, no
dialogue, no gore, no T and A, no CGI acid trip, and no big name stars.

But those are the things that
make it work.

Once upon a time, filmmakers
didn't have computers to create worlds and creatures with. They had to
improvise and make them from scratch. They had to get creative in order
to create. And in doing so, they paved the way for others to build on
and refine their ideas and methods, and bring moviemaking to where it is today.

The H.P. Lovecraft Historical
Society has definitely had experience in evoking the past. It began in 1984 by
Sean Branney (writer and co-producer with Leman of this movie) as a live action
role-playing group running games based on Lovecraft's works. They made their
own sets and props to enhance their adventures with the mood and feel of the
1920s. Today they've successfully branched out with their props made available
to the public, along with artifact replicas, music CDs, and audio dramas done
in the style of an old time radio program, "Dark Adventure Radio Theater."

Their motto says it all: Ludo
Fore Putavimus, Latin for "We thought it would be fun."

They were definitely up to the
challenge of making a period version of "Cthulhu." But not a 100% accurate
version, as it was filmed and edited with modern equipment. They dubbed the
process of mixing vintage and modern techniques "Mythoscope," and it
mostly works. Scenes with the swamp cult and the sailors exploring the ruins
were clearly done with green screen, and they stick out among the stop motion
animation and model sets shot in forced perspective. And digital filming gives
the production a less "aged" look. But not enough to spoil the
overall effect. It has a surreal, dream-like quality appropriate to the subject
matter. Cthulhu's dreams in his house at R'lyeh have permeated the movie
itself.

Keeping the story clear of
fluff like romantic plot lines, sex scenes, and graphic violence helps it stay
the course. The bookends involving "The Starry Night" jigsaw puzzle
are fitting considering the actual painting and Van Gough's background, and the
movie's revelation of The Man's fate. As the final pieces are added, the files
peel back layers of the mystery until the cosmic horror at the center is
revealed. When The Man smashes the puzzle in the end, the message is clear:
some mysteries are best left unsolved.

No big name stars appear in
this to distract viewers. All actors perform in the melodramatic style
appropriate to the silent movie period and do it well. The only real star of
the movie is mighty Cthulhu itself, here portrayed by an articulated tabletop
model. Shot at low angles, backlit, and kept in the shadows, it gives the right
performance of menacing awe.

The best horror movies are
products of their times, and The Call of Cthulhu is just that -
released 77 years after its time. It's an anomaly, a thing
that ought not be. But the stars aligned and brought forth this masterful
tribute to the early years of movie fantasies, and to H.P. Lovecraft's work -
whether he would've appreciated it or not.

About John

award-winning author of 27 books including Horror Films FAQ (2013), Horror Films of the 1990s (2011), Horror Films of the 1980s (2007), TV Year (2007), The Rock and Roll Film Encyclopedia (2007), Mercy in Her Eyes: The Films of Mira Nair (2006),, Best in Show: The Films of Christopher Guest and Company (2004), The Unseen Force: The Films of Sam Raimi (2004), An Askew View: The Films of Kevin Smith (2002), The Encyclopedia of Superheroes on Film & Television (2004), Exploring Space:1999 (1997), An Analytical Guide to TV's Battlestar Galactica (1998), Terror Television (2001), Space:1999 - The Forsaken (2003) and Horror Films of the 1970s (2002).

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